


Requiem for an Angel

by Merzibelle



Series: Semper Fi [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merzibelle/pseuds/Merzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim says his goodbyes to Abby and makes her a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem for an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Referenced Character Death; Spoilers for NCIS S9x24 "Til Death Do Us Part"
> 
> Disclaimer: NCIS is ©2003-2012 Belisarius Productions. Created by Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill. Produced by Belisarius Productions in association with Paramount Television (2003–06), CBS Paramount Television (2006–09) and CBS Television Studios (2009–present). No copyright infringement is intended. "Nothing Gold Can Stay" and "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" are ©1923 Robert Frost.
> 
> Author's Notes: This is set a week after the events of "The Unwritten Rule" and a few days after the end of "From the Ashes". Tim quotes "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" to Jimmy. Jimmy later quotes, and Tim finishes quoting, "Nothing Gold Can Stay". Both are poems by Robert Frost.

Jimmy Palmer tossed his glasses onto his temporary desk. They fell with a clatter next to the pile of folders he still needed to sign off on before he could head back to his apartment for the night. It was lonely without Breena but his very new wife had demanded to stay behind with Dr. Mallard. They'd spoken every night - the three of them - and Jimmy had learned more about his mentor in those conversations then years of talking in the morgue. A soft, almost tentative suggestion by Dr. Mallard of him and Breena moving in with him for the duration of his recovery led to a much longer private talk between him and his wife.

_“Be honest with yourself, honey. Doctor Mallard's your father and your worried about him. You'd be even more worried about him if he was alone in a house. I can take a leave of absence from work. Then Doctor Mallard won't be alone...”_

_“I couldn't ask you to do that...”_

_“You're not asking, Jimmy. I'm offering. Besides I know what he really means to you.”_

That conversation when combined with the knowledge that Dr. Mallard didn't want them to move into the Georgetown townhouse he'd purchased but the older home he'd once shared with his mother and still owned pretty much settled everything. Now, when not working in the FBI's morgue trying to autopsy friends and colleagues without breaking down, he was packing up their apartment for the upcoming move. He’d heard the truth in Dr. Mallard’s voice. Once they moved into that house, they’d not be moving back out. They’d become his family. He wanted them close to him and Jimmy knew that one day in the future he’d be inheriting that house.

A soft sigh escaped him. Sitting here thinking like this wasn’t getting the work done. He scrubbed his aching eyes before retrieving his glasses and slipping them back on. He reached for the next folder in the pile. He flipped it open to review the contents. It was the one report in the hundred or so he had to read he’d much rather never touch - Abby’s - the one that when it crossed Tim’s temporary desk in a few days would break the man’s heart. Still, he had a job to do, so he forced away the thought that this was one of his good friends in order to actually read the file.

In addition to her name, he now knew the long held secret of Abby’s age. There was a long list of all her tattoos. Jimmy raised an eyebrow at a mention of a few of them and their locations. Her few visible external injuries finished off the first page of the report. He turned the page to skim the notes page for the internal exam. Shock and horror caused him to drop the folder onto the desk.

“Oh, hell no.” Jimmy looked up at the ceiling for a moment before lowering his gaze down to the paperwork again. He wanted the notes to have changed but they didn’t. It was still there in stark blue and white in the now familiar handwriting of the FBI’s chief medical examiner. “Oh Abby...”

Too shocked to think of what to do, Jimmy continued reading the file his heart breaking more and more with every notation he found until he reached the line noting time of death. That single line all but broke him. He again tossed off his glasses. He ignored the clatter of his glasses falling from the desk to the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed one handed while rubbing his eyes with the other. “Breena, honey, is Doctor Mallard awake?”

_“Of course. Just a moment...”_ Breena’s cheerful voice brought a momentary smile to Jimmy’s face. _“Is everything okay? I can...”_

“I just need to talk to him.”

There were several shuffling noises in the background. Then he heard Breena murmur something and a door opening and closing before the one voice he really needed to hear echoed through the phone at him. 

_“Mr. Palmer, whatever is the matter?”_

“I need some advice, Doctor Mallard.” Jimmy took a strange sort of comfort in the formal way his mentor spoke to him. “I really want to break my ethics in the summary document for one of the autopsies.”

_“Which one?”_

“Abby’s.” Jimmy’s voice broke for just a moment before he coughed lightly and continued. “I couldn’t do the autopsy myself. I just wasn’t ready to do one of someone so close to me. I likely could have if you’d been here with me but not on my own like this, so I had Doctor Varma from the FBI do it for me. I've been reading over the notes and...”

_“Mr. Palmer, the point?”_

The softest, most broken of laughs escaped Jimmy. He’d never expected to get interrupted like that by Doctor Mallard considering how the older man rambled while telling stories. He understood though and, after taking a slow deep breath, briskly summarized the file for his mentor. He finished by asking the question he desperately needed an answer to so he could write the summary for Tim. “Doctor Mallard, I’m afraid if I tell the truth about when Abby died, it will break Tim. He’s refused to grieve for her. He’s so focused on the job he’s been given. I’m worried.”

_“What did Doctor Varma find?”_

“Abby died just a few minutes before we got to her. And...” Jimmy spoke the words carefully. “She was pregnant.”

_“Oh dear God.”_ Jimmy heard the choked off emotion in his mentor’s voice. Relief swept through him as he heard Breena speaking softly in the background. She’d must have come back from wherever she’d gone initially. _“Abigail... sweet Abigail.”_

“Yeah.” Jimmy bite his lip to try to contain the urge to cry. He, like Tim, couldn't. Not if he wanted to get the job done. “Her brother's arranged for her to be returned to New Orleans for burial. All that's waiting is my signature on the paperwork. Once I sign off on it, it goes to Tim. You know he'll read the file...”

_“And you think that it would serve no purpose to tell him how close he came to rescuing her.”_

“Yes.” Jimmy nodded even though he knew Doctor Mallard couldn’t see it. He bent down to finally retrieve his glasses from the floor. “I know he's having nightmares. He found Abby and Agent Gibbs using the internal cameras. He wouldn't leave until I confirmed that we could get them out.”

There was a long echoing silence. Jimmy actually moved the phone slightly so he could see if he was still connected. Finally, Doctor Mallard took a deep breath and spoke. _“Your instincts are correct, James. There are times, few and far between, when the truth serves no purpose. Tell him the cause of death. Don't tell him how long it took. Can you talk to Doctor Verma about this or do you wish me to?”_

“I know I should. I’m doing the job, but...” Jimmy trailed off and sighed tiredly. “If you wouldn’t mind, sir, I’d really appreciate it if you could speak to her. I’ll write the summary up for the file, sign the transfer documents but hold onto it until after she agrees. I just...” Jimmy paused for a moment, trying to figure out the right words to say, and smiled as he recalled what Doctor Mallard just said to him. It was the first time his mentor addressed him by his first name as if he was a friend and coworker not a student. He felt like he could take a chance and do what he’d been wanting to since he’d graduated from medical school to work full time as junior medical examiner at NCIS. “Ducky, I needed to know I was thinking of doing the right thing.”

_“I think I may say that you have passed your last test, Doctor. I have nothing left to teach you.”_

“Ducky, I... Thank you.” Even though no one was there but him, Jimmy still blushed at the compliment. “You have plenty to teach me yet. I’m certain of it. I couldn’t do this job without your advice. I know there’s a lot more for me to learn. The nuances more than the actual technical aspects.” He paused for a moment, then quieter and much more tentatively. “I miss you and your stories, Ducky. I never realized just how quiet the morgue was without them.”

A soft cough echoed through the line followed by the murmur of Breena’s voice. _“I miss your company too, dear boy.”_

“I should let you get your rest. I’ll text Doctor Varma’s number to Breena. She’s gone for the night but you should be able to catch her in the morning.” Jimmy leaned back in his chair. For the first time in this hellish week, he felt like he’d actually accomplished something. Not just something but the right something. It felt good. “Good night, Ducky.”

_“Good night, James.”_

Jimmy hung up the phone then quickly text Breena both a short message reassuring her he was all right and the number for Ducky to reach Doctor Varma in the morning. He sat there for a few minutes in silence just relishing his mentor’s words. He’d finally passed some invisible test. He’d felt the weight of it; however, he’d also not truly known what it was. He felt like he was a real medical examiner now, even if he’d been one for months, simply because Ducky used his first name. Shaking his head at his fancy, Jimmy set his phone down, pulled Abby’s file over to him and began to convert the notes into a formal summary for the record. He’d only gotten a few sentences completed when the soft bing of the elevator outside his converted-from-a-storage-closet-office interrupted his train of thought.

No one came to his door. Instead, steady footsteps passed his door headed down the hall to the refrigerated vault being used to store the already autopsied bodies before they’re transferred out for travel to distant cities or to local funeral homes for services. Curious as to who could be in the FBI morgue at this time of night, Jimmy rose and cracked the door open enough to peer cautiously into the hallway. He looked out just in time to watch Tim slowly pull the heavy vault door wide open. Curious, Jimmy waited until the other man stepped into the vault before easing his way down the hallway behind him.

Listening to the footsteps inside, Jimmy waited by the door until he was certain that Tim was far enough away not to see him slip into the room. It was the first time outside of official occasions that Jimmy had seen Tim in the week since the explosion. Their new jobs kept them so busy they barely spoke even on the phone about anything but work. Still, Jimmy knew from Tony that Tim avoided discussing Abby as much as possible. It worried him as, like all the team, he knew how close the two were to each other. Staying in the shadows of the room, Jimmy carefully matched his steps to Tim’s until he was close enough to watch over his friend. His timing was perfect. Tim found Abby’s transfer case just as Jimmy found a spot close enough to be ready when Tim needed him yet not close enough to truly intrude.

“Hello Abby.” Tim rested a hand on the bottom of the transfer case. His fingers traced over the frame around the label card. “I met Luka today. I signed his request to take you 'home' to New Orleans. He’s just waiting on Jimmy’s release form now. You know that though, I'm sure. He's taking you away from us...” His voice cracked a bit. “Taking you away from me. I understand why but it still hurts, Abby.”

“He gave me the letter you left at your place.” Tim’s hand trailed along the top of the case as he walked alongside it. “I was surprised to find the gift I’d given you in it. Why Abby? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He laid a small bouquet of deep red roses which appeared black in the faint light in the vault on top of the transfer case. The black ribbon securing them together trailed across and down one side of the case. “You could have told me. You were the one who made the decisions.” Tim’s fingers twitched at the ribbons but didn’t move them. “You always did. You know what I wanted, what I always wanted, and you always pushed me away too. I should have done so many things different.”

“I wish you’d told me you were having those nightmares of yours again.” Tim chuckled softly. It was a strangely bitter sound to Jimmy’s ears. “Though I likely would have locked you up in your apartment for a while. It’s the only reason I can think of for why you left that letter for Luka to give me or why you put the only gift you kept from me in it for me to have back. Anyway,” Tim’s voice did break now. Jimmy heard him choke back a sob. He shifted and froze as Tim glanced over toward where he hid in the shadows of the room. “I know that Gibbs would like you to say hi to his family for him. Maybe pass a few of those hugs of yours along too. Tony, he’d definitely like you to find Kate and say hi to her too. Though if I know you, my Abby, you’ve already found them and are sitting down with Kelly telling her stories of her Daddy, suitably edited for a child’s ears.”

“I’m gonna miss you, Abby. I tried to give it back to Luka. I really wanted him to bury it with you but he insisted I keep it. I think he’s more a traditional Catholic than you were, Abby. I’ll make certain no one on the team knows the secret you were keeping. They really don’t need to know. It’s been hard enough on me knowing it.”

Tim slipped down onto one knee beside the case. His right hand remained on the case while his left slipped into one pocket. Jimmy’s mind immediately went to one of the many stories Ducky’d told him to pass time in the old morgue. Tim’s position, kneeling on one knee with the other upraised and his hand on the transfer case, reminded Jimmy of the description of a knight taking an oath to a fallen leader or comrade. His left hand dipped further into his coat pocket. Something red and black with hints of a silver metallic sheen dangled from his fingers. 

“I will find the real mastermind behind this attack, no matter how long it takes, and they will pay. They will pay for every death, every injury, I promise you that.” Tim’s voice cracked again. Jimmy watched as he considered the necklace dangling from his fingers. It was only as he lifted it to drape it around his neck that Jimmy recognized it for what it was - a rosary - and his impulsive action the night he’d helped retrieve Abby’s body finally made sense to him. “I’ll see you again eventually, Abby. It may be a while. I have a few promises to keep first.”

Tim leaned forward to rest his forehead on the back of his hand. His voice dropped, softened, and for the first time since he’d crept into the room, Jimmy felt like a voyeur as he watched over Tim. 

“I still love you, Abigail Scuito. I always have. And I am very, very sorry it took me so long to find you that night.” Tim rose slowly to his feet and stood with his head bowed over the case for a several minutes of silence. “Forgive me?”

The silence in the room deepened. Grew heavy with the weight of Tim’s words and Jimmy’s fear of being caught spying on his friend. Just as Jimmy reached the point of embarrassment winning over silence and opened his mouth to speak a breeze - soft and cold - swept through the room. It was laced with the scents of gunpowder, explosives and gasoline which blended disconcertingly with the scent of the roses laying on Abby’s transfer case. Intellectually, Jimmy knew it was likely the air conditioning system turning on, moving the lingering odors from the explosion around the room, but the part of him that was Abby’s friend and understood her New Orleans heritage shivered in reaction.

“Going to come out, Jimmy?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation.” Jimmy took a few steps forward to join Tim by the case. “Those are interesting. I would have thought you’d bring black ones.”

“Abby’s favorite was black roses, I know.” Tim chuckled softly. His hand shifted a bit. One finger stroking the edge of a rose petal. “I preferred these. Deep dark red roses. I gave them to her whenever we were...”

“Tim?”

“I’ll be okay, Jimmy. I’m not going to do anything rash.” Tim’s hand fell away from the case. He tilted his head toward the door. “I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.”

“Robert Frost.” Jimmy fell in step beside Tim as the other man led the way from the room. “Come to my closet. Share a drink with me. I...”

“Closet?”

“My temporary office used to be a closet.” Jimmy stopped by the door to the vault. He watched Tim for a moment before slowly closing and relocking the vault. “It just barely has enough room for me, my desk, the piles of files and a visitor.” He tilted his head slightly. “I have Ducky’s bottle of whiskey.”

“One drink then.” Tim conceded to the request. “By the time we finish Sandoval will have found out where I am. He’ll be here with the newest ‘don’t go off without us’ lecture for me. I just...”

“Needed to do this alone.”

“As alone as anyone would let me be.” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded but...” Jimmy broke off the apology when Tim’s hand came to rest on his arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, Jimmy. Like Ducky, you know all our secrets.” Tim’s hand fell away as they began the short walk down the corridor. “I think it’s part of the job as medical examiner.”

“Maybe it is.” Jimmy opened his office door and moved a stack of folders off the visitor chair. He sat and reached down into the bottom drawer of the desk to remove the whiskey bottle and a pair of glasses. Pouring them both a small drink, he set one before Tim. He capped the bottle and tucked it away again in its place. He then retrieved a small paper envelope from another drawer. Jimmy sat there for a moment, tapping it against his glass, before rising and coming to stand in front of Tim. He reached out a hand toward the rosary Tim now wore. “May I?”

They stared silently at each other for a full minute before Tim nodded and lifted off the rosary. Jimmy accepted it and returned to his chair. He turned the cross over and smiled at the back. Carefully, he used a thumbnail to open a small container built into the center of the cross. Jimmy smiled and slipped a finger underneath the flap of the envelope. He reached inside and eased out the contents. Several strands of black hair lay in his palm. He wound them tightly together with the tip of one finger before transferring them to that space and closing it. “I saved these. I didn't know if I should give them to you, but when I saw the rosary I realized why I had saved it. My grandmother had one like it.”

Jimmy handed the rosary back to Tim. He watched as Tim rubbed his thumb across the center of the cross before kissing it and settling it back around his neck. This time rather than leaving it exposed, he tucked it beneath his shirt. Somehow Jimmy knew that rosary wouldn’t be leaving Tim’s neck unless absolutely necessary until he’d kept his promise to Abby. The two men shared a momentary smile before Jimmy reached for the whiskey glass on the desk.

“So Eden sank to grief,” he quoted softly. “So dawn goes down to day...”

“Nothing gold can stay.” Tim finished the quotation. He tilted the glass he held toward Jimmy before tossing off the contents. “She was just as bright, Jimmy.” 

“I know, Tim.”

“I should go.” Tim rose to his feet. He started out the door then stopped with a hand on the frame. Jimmy held Tim’s gaze as the man looked over his shoulder at him. “Tell me it was quick, Jimmy. Tell me I didn’t leave her to suffer down there in the dark.”

“It was, Tim.” Jimmy used all his concentration and focus to hold Tim’s gaze. The man could never know the truth behind the lie he was about to be told. “She died instantly when the floor above them collapsed into the basement. She never felt a thing.”

Tim searched his eyes for several minutes. It took everything Jimmy had to return that look and not fidget beneath it. Finally, Tim nodded and smiled very faintly. “Thank you, Jimmy. I’ll see you tomorrow at Vance’s funeral.”

“Of course.” Jimmy waited until he heard the sound of the elevator starting upstairs before he collapsed down into his chair. He tossed off the drink on the desk, set the glass down and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I know you understand, Abby. I'll keep your last secret. I give you my word.”


End file.
